A Gnoment in Time, Part 5
Log Info
- Title: A Gnoment in Time, Part 5
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Skielstregar, Paenitia, Ravenstongue, Vaera, Dirk, Lyme
- Place: Felwood
- Time: Thursday, October 13, 2022, 10:19 PM
- Summary: Farland's expedition ventures deeper into the Felwood. It's growing darker, and there is something in the air that's aggravating everyone's allergies. As they venture further, the source becomes apparent. It's a dragon! It attacks! They attack back! Cor'lana determines it might not really be a dragon, as Skielstregar and Paenitia lay into it, and Vaera and Dirk shoot away. Lyme wails on it too, but it doesn't go down. Instead, it breathes on the party.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Skielstregar 7'2" 330 Lb Sith-Makar Male A brilliantly silver scale with fangs and empty eyes. Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Ravenstongue 5'0" 99 Lb Half-Elf Female Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair. Vaera 7'0" 262 Lb Sith-Makar Female A tall, dark red Makari with a metallic leg. Dirk 4'11" 295 Lb Mountain Dwarf Male A rugged old dwarf, dressed for the outdoors. Lyme 7'2" 435 Lb Orc Butch Black-skinned oruch of suitable stature -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Out Scouting -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Zyla 7'5" 310 Lb Giantborn Female Massive woman in simple clothing and robes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Farland Gnome Male Associate of Griva, Resurrectionist, Wizard -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Whirlpool Otyugh I am stinky! -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Previously
The Invisible Assailant is rendered unconscious and bound. The party discusses what it is, and what to do about it. Vaera confirms it is an extra-planar being, an Invisible Stalker, possibly sent for political reasons. It could be dismissed, but it's just as easily killed, so Skielstregar dispatches it. Morning comes, breakfast happens, and Farland is upset. Leaving the MMM, the party ventures forth into the Felwood.
It's not even close to night, of course.
- ... but that's how dark its getting. Farlan is concerned. Very.
He takes a step forward and then stops, "We're getting closer. Can any of you detect magic? Tell me what you see? It's not that I can't. I want an extra set of eyes."
"I can't." Paenitia laughs, shaking her head, "I am only so rich. I can not buy the wondrous things to make up for being the Knight in Shining Armour that does not do the magic tricks."
Cor'lana steps forward. "I can," she announces, and she begins to recite the incantation and weave the magic. Pothy, meanwhile, wobbles on her shoulder woozily, trying to keep upright.
Lyme follows quietly, having been as unobtrusive as he can be lately.
Vaera is able to keep pace and keep an eye out for any oddities, which are many in the strange forest, but non openly hostile yet. Still, her weapon is at the ready, and her attention is solely on making sure nothing snuck up on them.
"Different weapons for different foes. Cold iron is a safe bet, though." She chuffs,waiting for whatever information the others could glean.
Cor'lana's eyes widen as she looks around, her violet eyes glowing as she examines the area with the aid of her spell. "The magic here... Something is /wrong/," she says. "It's... There's too much energy here. Like it's all about to spill over. The wrong spell could make everything go haywire. Everyone, if you've got anything even vaguely magical, be careful."
Now
Skielstregar makes an 'ack' noise as he looks over his shoulder. "... the magicsss isss... wrong? Oh. Erm." He looks at his magic weapon, his belt, his arms and the power within. "... thisss one will try not to, um, explode," he rumbles nervously.
"I am riding the great magical beast, with the magic armour and the magic lance." Paenitia says. "Should I have the worry of pierce the fabric of the world?"
Farland puts his hand over his face.
"...great. Great. This is just wonderful. We need to figure out what's going on and why, or elsef we could have a real problem on our hands and a massive issue with our new nation." He means the Mythwood elves, who are none too far away after all.
"I don't think the magic items will have that much of an impact," Cor'lana replies regarding Paenitia and Skielstregar's concerns. "They're self-contained magic. They don't really need to draw on... the magic around us."
She looks to Farland and offers him a reassuring smile. "We do need to figure out what's going on," she says, "considering I am tied by marriage to the Mythwood. So, consider me motivated."
She turns to regard the group in full. "So, I'll keep my casting to a minimum unless it's absolutely necessary. But for now, I think we need to go deeper into the woods to investigate."
"So, we avoid magic unless it is absolutely necessary. Seems reasonable enough, but limiting. We will need to be extra careful not to get into any trouble in the process." Vaera chuffs. "Should we go, or should we gather more people versed in dealing with something of this scope? I do not know how much help I will be in matters such as these."
"Allright then. Ramirez and I, we guard the back." Paenitia says, setting her lance in its scabbard and drawing her warhammer. She turns her great hippogryph to the rear of the party, "If we need the stealthy approach, you can hide behind Ramirez."
She shrugs a little, adjusting her cloak, then her banner, "I cannot help you with the investigating magic. I have only the warhammer, everything I see is the nails."
Skiel, at the front of the group, rumbles nervously as he shifts on his feet and resumes the march. "Thisss one will keep that in mind. Besssidesss, Sssshaman Farland. Sssee it asss an act of good faith for the new clan in Alexandria to sssolve, and lessss a problem with new people."
He bobs his head to Paenitia. "Thisss one will keep that in mind. They will attempt to be the swiftclaw if they have to be sneaky," he mentions over a shoulder.
A glance to Vaera. "We are already thisss far, Vaera. And we have the bessst people we can with ssuch matters," he gestures to Farland and Cor'lana. "It will be up to usss to keep them ssssafe."
"Ramirez will be a good sneaking tool, yes," Cor'lana says with affection for the hippogryph. "So long as Pothy's quiet, that is. He's currently kind of... inebriated."
Pothy burps, but manages to keep himself upright on the sorceress's shoulder.
"Proof," Cor'lana states. She goes over to Ramirez, preparing to sneak behind the big bird. Big horse. Big horsebird.
"If you are all confident in that, then so be it, I will support however I can. If Skielstregar trusts you, then that is good enough for me." The red makari shrugs. "If it is as bad as you say, then the sooner the better however, we should be on our way to minimize the risks of anything happening."
GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (5)+8: 13 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (9)+4: 13 GAME: Skielstregar rolls perception: (16)+13: 29 GAME: Vaera rolls perception: (14)+12: 26 GAME: Dirk rolls Perception: (4)+12: 16
Dirk isn't doing much better than Pothy, to be honest. He's still a little wobbly on his feet, but isn't that when dwarves are supposedly the best at fighting? That's how the urban legend goes anyway. And he -did- have a whole pot of coffee. He squints at Lana as she gives that particular warning. "Well... that shouldn't be an issue fer -me-," he muses, giving his beard a tug. He pauses in mid-tug, though, and his eyes sloooowly shift down to his thunderbelcher. Which, to anyone with magicked sight active, hums with its own enchantment. As do his boots, the amulet around his neck, the bandolier across his chest... "Oh, piss up my arse," he grumbles.
"Thanks, Friend Dragon," Paenitia says, turning her head to watch Pothy, Ramirez copying her motion. The secret to hiding is not making noise, which Ramirez knows, so he does not make any.
"Lead on Farland, we are ready." The Red Knight states.
"...yeah. Well, gotta figure out where to go first... The shape of the lands can influence the shape of the lay of the sea of mana over it," explains Farland, thoughtfully. A glance towards Ravenstongue. "Please keep your eyes peeled for unusual geography."
And this is what you do, moving through the Felwood. This demon infested place, full of mist, strange sounds interspersed with unsuual quiet. The woods are not dead, they're just alive in all the wrong ways.
Your eyes peeled, each of you note unusual features. A strangely crooked tree, an oddly angled slope, the way the branches of a set of trees weave above. It's not until Skiel detects a scene that Farland seems to think you're on the right track.
"Follow his nose," says Farland, pointing at Skeil, and thus you do.
Sith do have pretty good smellers, apparently, what with all the lizardyness.
As you get closer to the source, it's definitely becoming more apparently. A sweet smell, sickening and cloying. Not the kind of sickening associated with something fermenting or rotting, (unfortunately and fortunately in either case), but like a thick head of pollen. Noses start to itch. Eyes start to water.
Skiel grunts in acknowledgement, him keeping eyes out for anything weird, ears open for weird sounds. No, not those weird sounds, the other ones. The other other ones. And nose to the-
Wait. What was that? Skiel did have a good sniffer. Though usually it was for more fleshy meals. He tends to disregard it most of the time due to it, his sister was better about it after all.
But this was something different. He strides low to the ground, occasionally putting a hand on the ground to walk on threes to follow the trail. What... was that...-?
"Ah-choo!" he sneezes, the front of his face frosting over grossly before it's wiped away. "Ugh. Sssorry. Ssssomething... gnuh. Sssomething drawsss near."
"Or we draw near," he adds.
>Ah-chho!< The little lucht sneezes. This is followed by the peacock-andalusian doing the same, >ahh-rauahh!<
So much for stealth.
Paenitia snorts, the sound echoing out of her helmet's visor. Her eyes may be watering, but they are hidden behind lenses. "Okay. I have battle the plants before."
"Augh," Cor'lana complains, and she starts trying to bat away the stench from her face. "Pothy, fan me."
Pothy... tries. He beats his wings, but he's also... drunk. His motion is not especially coordinated, and therefore... Pothy is not effective.
This results in... the daintiest little sneeze, ever. "Ah-choooo~" The last bit trills upward, like Cor'lana's suddenly turned into a squeaky toy.
Vaera rubs her nose a few times, and sneezes loudly once, before deciding to wrap a mask around her snout to keep the worst of it away. Setting her arm on fire for a brief moment was enough to decide that having a full sense of smell wasn't worth it.
"Somewhat better, not quite enough, but that isn't natural. Not completely, at least." Vaera chuffs. "Be on your guards, and try not to be caught off guard. It could be any manner of things, amd possibly part of some trap."
Dirk's big dwarven nose wrinkles as he scents that sweetness. "Hunh... wonder what that could baahh... what -that- could bahhh... ahh..." He stops in his tracks, leaning back and then pitching forward. "HASHOO!" He snurrrks through his nose, blinking the water from his eyes. "Oh! Goodness! Wonder what brought thaahuh... uhhh... WASHOO!" He lets loose another explosive sneeze, rubbing a blunt fingertip in the corner of his eye. "Dana's teats, I hope we dinnae have tae sneak up on anything anytime soon!" he grumbles.
As you get closer to whatever's causing the scent, the pollen hanging in the air only gets more intense. It's awful.
Really, really awful.
GAME: Dirk rolls Fortitude+2: (17)+9+2: 28 (vs DC18 - Success) GAME: Paenitia rolls fortitude+1: (9)+10+1: 20 (vs DC18 - Success) GAME: Lyme rolls fort: (12)+7: 19 (vs DC18 - Success) GAME: Skielstregar rolls fortitude: (6)+12: 18 (vs DC18 - Success) GAME: Vaera rolls fortitude: (9)+8: 17 (vs DC18 - Fail) GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Fortitude: (4)+8: 12 (vs DC18 - Fail)
Cor'lana coughs hard, and she stops in place for a moment, trying desperately to find something, anything, in her bag to help. She pulls out a slip of cloth--a sort of long handkerchief made from silk--and pulls it up over her mouth, tying it off in the back, to fashion herself a makeshift bandana mask. Which she then coughs into. So much for the silk.
"Let's keep going," she says, although it's said with a certain amount of struggle and is, of course, followed by another cough. Skielstregar has partially disconnected.
"We follow!" Paenitia declares, still trailing the group and trusting her armour to keep the worst of the pollen at bay. Ramirez will have to rely on his bird durability. "Runners of the Woods, do you know of the dangerous demon plant demons that attack with pollen?"
The forward going is miserable. Farland's spectacles have fogged up because he's got so many tears in his eyes. "I don't dare use any wind magic to blow this shit outta here," he whines.
"Of /course/ it'd be pollen."
Up ahead, your blurry eyes make out what appears to be a pile of overgrown bark and flowers that seems to be the source of the problem. It's thickly clustered.
GAME: Dirk rolls Knowledge/Nature: (13)+13: 26 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Nature: (4)+16-2: 18 (-2 Sickened) GAME: Vaera rolls knowledge/nature: (11)+6: 17 GAME: Skielstregar rolls knowledge/nature: (14)+2: 16
Skiel's eyes are watering, and it doesn't help when they make little frost buildup that has to get broken away every dozen steps in. He too follows the ideas of the others: him pulling a rag out from one of his bandoliers and wrapping it around his snout akin to Vaera. "Gnah.. thisss one fought... fought a weird tree that fuzzled your mind with itssss ssscent. Then triesss to hang you with itssss vinesss. In Am'ssshere...." he wheezes out, wiping at his eyes again, speaking from experience. "But thisss isss.. maybe different..."
Being at the front, he points with the spear tip of his halberd. "Up ahead, sssomething... -cough- flowery," he nasally reports.
"AC-CHOO"
And with that the mask the red amakari had been wearing went up in smoke, crumbling away into ashes. The hunter took in a sharp intake of breath, which was made worse by the pollen in the air leading to another fit of sneezing and coughing. "Gods, it's not even close to spring, any flowering plants shouldn't be bad." They grumble.
Dirk squints as he peers at the great shrubbery in their midst. "Beards o' me fathers... the hell is -that-?" he grunts, snurrking through his nose again. "Uff! It's... that's nae a yellow musk creeper. There's no dead beasties about it. An'... I've never known a shamblin' mound tae give off so much bloo... so much bloohahh... ahh... ASHOO!"
He sneezes again, following with a mighty snorrrrf. By now, his majestic white beard has started to take on a faint golden tinge from all the pollen in the air. And he just washed it this week, too. "Farlad, is -this- thig whad yer afder?" he grunts through rapidly filling sinuses.
Paenitia adjusts her shield, trades her warhammer for a silvered sword, and checks her banner. This is followed by tugging on Ramirez's saddle straps. He's still full and uncomfortable from all the eating the night before. She checks their back trail, in case the pollen producer has circled around behind. Somehow.
"Y-Yeah, definitely not a creeper," Cor'lana wheezes out in agreement from behind her mask, which she now shifts up to cover her nose, too. "And yes, could be a shambling mound, but... there's way too much pollen..."
She looks around for a moment. "If it wasn't a profoundly bad idea, I could try and call out to some fey to see if they might help in identification, but again, horrible idea."
"Y-Yeah, definitely not a creeper," Cor'lana wheezes out in agreement from behind her mask, which she now shifts up to cover her nose, too. "And yes, could be a shambling mound, but... there's way too much pollen..."
She looks around for a moment. "If it wasn't a profoundly bad idea, I could try and call out to some fey to see if they might help in identification, but again, horrible idea."
Meanwhile, Pothy's currently hiding his fluffy little head in Cor'lana's hair to cope with the pollen--no, wait. He's actually fallen asleep like that. What a talented drunk bird.
The leading silverscale flinches at hearing a whoosh of flame. Skiel looks back. Blinks away the ice. "... did... wait. Did /you/ make that fire?" he inquires, pointing to Vaera with a curious quirk of a scaled brow behind his makeshift mask.
But he sneezes. And the cloth crackles frozen.
He shakes his head off and looks forward. "Ah, yessss, Hunter Dirk and Sssshaman Ravensss issss correct it ssseemsss. Thisss one knowsss that sssome nature thingsss may be involved with magic, but... thisss one doesss not think it dealsss with magic thingssss. We can go around it?"
"Farland pick the way we go. The trees stand too close, like drunken uncles, so I cannot scout overhead with Ramirez." Paenitia explains, "The magic thing or the nature thing, I am waiting for the Big Hola to charge."
"...GNERGHBLAFOOT!"
That's Farland's response. He draws a handkerchief and honks into it extremely loudly. Not like anyone else is being quiet. Did that root just move?
.. yes, yes it did. As you stand there, observing the pile of bark, it starts moving, unburying itself from the ground. A pair of clawed feet raise up and slam into the earth, digging into and leaving furrows. It raises its head.
Stares at you, uncoiling its long neck. Primal fear rolls over you in waves because the shape is now immediately recognizable.
Dragon.
Ramirez regrets following Pothy into 'battle with the kitchen'.
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "RT, you're up top. You have the worst hay fever you've ever experienced and there is a dragon." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "RT totally said not to cast magic but that's all she can do, so she's going to cast Haste." GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (5)+14: 19 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Everyone gets a +2 to hit instead of +1 as the haste is more powerful than anticipated!" GAME: Ravenstongue casts Haste. Caster Level: 12 DC: 19
There's no mistaking that shape. No one alive could. No one dead could, either--especially the ones who have died by similar forms. That's why Cor'lana's violet eyes go wide with terror. But she quickly rallies with defiance burning in her eyes. "I'm not dying here. Not today, not now, not when I'm so close to happiness," she murmurs, followed by a cough.
She weaves magic in her hands as she murmurs the incantation. There's something... off, however. Something wrong. The magic in her hands is raring to go. It's threatening to spiral out of control. Cor'lana releases it and the light of her quickening spell washes over her allies.
The sorceress coughs quietly once the spellwork is out in the air. "Finish it quickly!" she commands of her allies. "I shouldn't cast magic at all! Things can go out of control /fast/!"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "You can rush in and get a single attack." <OOC> Lyme says, "PA/FF because it makes sense." GAME: Lyme rolls 1d20+15+2: (18)+15+2: 35 GAME: Lyme rolls 1d10+9+3+6: (9)+9+3+6: 27
Lyme blurs into action, heading towards the danger. He swings his sword towards the ..dragon!... and it lands with a wrist-shuddering thud!
<OOC> Vaera says, "I'll take advantage of the haste while I know it's working" <OOC> Vaera says, "full attack and step to the right" <OOC> Vaera says, "pbs deadly aim rapid shot" GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+11+1-2: (16)+11+1+-2: 26 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+11+1-2: (10)+11+1+-2: 20 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+11+1-2: (6)+11+1+-2: 16 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+6+1-2: (17)+6+1+-2: 22 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+4+1: (8)+4+1: 13 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+4+1: (3)+4+1: 8 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+4+1: (1)+4+1: 6 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+4+1: (1)+4+1: 6 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Not great damage. In fact, a few of your hits are absorbed totally by it." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Damage reduction is a pain in the ass."
Well, Vaera wasn't expecting a giant dragon to show up. The hunter freezes, and readies her weapon the moment after ,letting out one shot after another, but most of them seem to bounce harmlessly off of the bark.
"Spread out, and be careful! It seems to be armored, or something similar, so hit it as hard as you can!" She shouts to the others.
<OOC> Dirk says, "Is Lulu still too stuffed to fly out to the dragon's other side and provide flanking?" <OOC> Dirk says, "Also, can I try a Knowledge/Arcana roll to see if I can suss out some of this beastie's weaknesses?" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Like I said, ACs have penalties, but they can provide a flank." GAME: Dirk rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (12)+3: 15 <OOC> Dirk nods. I'll full attack with the haste, and use my swift action to command Lulu to give Lyme flanking. GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged+2: (7)+10+2: 19 GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged+2: (11)+10+2: 23 GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged+2-5: (11)+10+2+-5: 18 GAME: Dirk rolls Dmg: aliased to 1d12+4+1: (10)+4+1: 15 GAME: Dirk rolls Dmg: aliased to 1d12+4+1: (10)+4+1: 15 GAME: Dirk rolls Dmg: aliased to 1d12+4+1: (1)+4+1: 6 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "In any event, you have a bit more luck than VAera did." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "But most of your damage is also eaten."
Dirk's eyes get wide as tea saucers as the mound of vegetation animates and reveals a -dragon-, of all things. "Ohh, piss up my -arse-," he whispers as his face turns white as milk. But though his knees tremble from the beasts's supernal fear, the sturdy old woodsman holds his ground. He swings up his thunderbelcher, eyes narrowed as he sights down the barrel. He gives three sharp whistles through his teeth. "Lulu! Flank 'em!" he barks. With a weary hoot, Lulu wings off his shoulder. She manages to flutter her way (albeit in a bit of a crooked fashion, given her overfull crop and tummy), and wheels around to bare her talons.
Meanwhile, Dirk is busily drawing his bead. Aided by Cor'lana's magic, he fires three shots in rapid succession. CHK-BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! He squints as his bullets PANG into the thing's verdant hide. Squints a little closer. "Great Gilead's Ghost! This thing's more plant than dragon!" he hollers. "Try lobbin' some fire on it, maybe -that'll- put some hurt on it!"
GAME: Skielstregar rolls knowledge/arcana: (6)+4: 10 GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21+2+2: (19)+15+2+2: 38 GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage21+9+1d10: aliased to 1d10+8+9+1d10: (9)+8+9+(6): 32, "damage is slashing magic" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Skiel hurts it."
Now that was a feeling that wrought forth ancient memories deep in blood and bone. Primal fear through and up the spine. Slamming into the base of his skull. His eyes widen. Pupils dilate. Already slow beating heart quickening. "... is that...?" <Draconic>
His halberd seemingly moves on its own, dragging his hands forward and into a ready stance. The metal vibrates a low tone. Rumbling. Growling. Gleaming silver. Dripping a black icho-
The makari huffs at it. "No, Malefic! We cannot magick it!" Seemingly able to catch the gist, it ceases the inky flow. And the silverscale rushes in as the overloaded alacrity spell hits him, axe head at the ready as he gives a full bodied slash at it, moving to its flank to get out of the way of friends and potential maw of /something/. "HUNTERSS, SSSHAMANSSS WHAT ISS THISS?" he yells at them. A glance goes to Lulu, and he internally cringes.
<OOC> Paenitia says, "I would like to: Drop sword, draw mithril lance, swift to challenge, and charge, also PA." <OOC> Paenitia says, "I've got 'ride by' so I'd like to to end in a flanking position for someone to the dragons' haunches." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "You can certainly offer a flank if you want to do so." GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon4+4+2-3: (11)+13+4+2+-3: 27 (+4 Charge, +2 haste, -3 PA) <OOC> Paenitia says, "+6 dam for PA, +10 for Cav Challenge, x3 for my spirited charge feat" GAME: Paenitia rolls damage4+6+10: aliased to 1d6+2+6+10: (3)+2+6+10: 21 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage4+6+10: aliased to 1d6+2+6+10: (6)+2+6+10: 24 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage4+6+10: aliased to 1d6+2+6+10: (3)+2+6+10: 21 (total 66 dam, mithril lance, +1 for DR) <OOC> Paenitia says, "Ramirez will do a chargey bite." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Ramirez is at a -2. Because of the 'overindulged' debuff. :)" <OOC> Paenitia says, "Ramirez -2 overfed +2 haste +2 charge" GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9-2+2+2: (6)+9+-2+2+2: 17 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "It does not hit."
"Orale'!" Paenitia cries out, loud and cheerful. "Ramirez! It is a dragon! We fight!"
'ruuaaaaaah.' Ramirez is too full. He does not wish to fight on the full belly. No.
"DRAGON!" The Red Knight calls, dropping her warhammer and drawing her lance. Her armour may not be shining, it is crimson blood coloured, but her lance is, a magical masterpiece of mitril. "I am SISTER PAENITIA SNAPDRAGON DEL HARANA! You will FIGHT! Only Me!"
With a cheer she leans forward in her saddle, tucking the lance handle under her arm, reins and pommel held tight as she leans in. Reluctantly, Ramirez surges forward obeying his mistress' commands. The heavy bellied peacock-andalusian glides past the others as the dark lucht brings her lance point to the dragon's throat.
She hits! The point pierces, gouging a huge trail of scales.
Ramirez lands with a bounce beside the dragon's haunce, his lugubrious beak-bite failing to even snap on scales. He makes an uncomfortable whinny.
"A dragon?" yelps Farland, as he steps back. He starts to cast a spell but starts sneezing instead. Very useful.
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "So it decides to breathe on ya'll. Fort saves, everyone!"
GAME: Lyme rolls fort: (6)+7: 13
GAME: Paenitia rolls fortitude+1: (10)+10+1: 21
GAME: Skielstregar rolls fortitude: (9)+12: 21
GAME: Vaera rolls fortitude: (7)+8: 15
<OOC> Vaera says, "I'm gonna spend rpp to reroll"
GAME: Vaera rolls fortitude: (1)+8: 9 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Fortitude: (6)+8: 14
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "I will also spend RPP to reroll, in the off chance I can do better. :')"
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Fortitude: (19)+8: 27
GAME: Dirk rolls Fortitude+2: (6)+9+2: 17
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "So Lyme, Dirk, Vaera failed, RT succeeded... Paen and Skiel succeeded."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Everyone: gains the sickened condition."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "RT, Dirk, and Vaera gain blinded."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Worst hay fever of your life."
<OOC> Dirk says, "Well shit. Dirk's now pretty much useless. :("
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Dirk is not useless :)"
The ... dragon backs up a step, shaking more pollen off its presence. Flowers bloom and rot on top of it at an impossible rate, a constant cycle of regeneration and death. It rears up and then shakes even MORE pollen off itself, flooding the area in a glittery, thickened cloud of it. Magical pollen.
Some of you get hit worse than ever before. The hayfever all but blinds you as eyes seal shut and water, disabling you with sneezing and burning, burning, *burning* sensations.
It's awful, genuinely.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (6)+22: 28 <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Okay. RT is going to blurt out that's probably not actually a dragon and will cast... Hold Monster." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Hold Monster. Caster Level: 12 DC: 23 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+14: (14)+14: 28 (vs DC24) <OOC> Whirlpool says, "But you did have a pretty good shot there and now you know for sure it's not got any SR."
Cor'lana assesses the situation. She analyzes the dragon in front of her and her eyes widen as she comes to a conclusion. "That's /not/ a dragon," she says. "That's a dragon made of plants. Fungi. It might be using a dragon corpse, but that's not the real thing. Use fire against it! I'll try and lock it down!"
And so she tries. She murmurs an incantation and weaves magic in her fingers, a powerful enchantment--but she unleashes it and the 'plant dragon' resists her enthrallment.
<OOC> Lyme will now PA/FF fullattack, flanking with Lulu <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Roll 1d100 a bunch, 3 times :)" GAME: Lyme rolls 1d100: (6): 6 GAME: Lyme rolls 1d100: (76): 76 GAME: Lyme rolls 1d100: (64): 64 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "One success." GAME: Lyme rolls 1d20+15+2+2: (3)+15+2+2: 22 GAME: Lyme rolls 1d10+9+3+6: (1)+9+3+6: 19 <OOC> Lyme apologizes, and turns into a pumpkin. Morning'll come too early
Lyme, rather suddenly, can't see anything -- that he's in close-proximity to what he thinks is a dragon is really rather a pressing issue for him. He tries to swing for it still, he really does. Once, he even catches it with his tip.
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "VAera, why haven't you levelled?" <OOC> Vaera says, "not sure" <OOC> Whirlpool baps. <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Go level :)" <OOC> Whirlpool bap bap bap. <OOC> Whirlpool bapbapbapbabap. XD <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Bap." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Vaera." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Would you like to go level up before your turn real quick?" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Vaera?" <OOC> Vaera says, "I don't know" <OOC> Vaera says, "I guess so?" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "If you would like to go level, go ahead. I'm sure we won't mind waiting a few minutes for you!" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Gives me a chance to scoot in a bio anyway :)" Vaera goes OOC. Vaera has left. <OOC> Whirlpool scratches head. :) Vaera arrives, singing as she steps into the high grasses. Bluebirds sing. Vaera has arrived. <OOC> Whirlpool says, "WB :)" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Okay. Now, would you like to shoot? :)" <OOC> Vaera says, "I'll shoot it" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Roll 1d100." GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+11+1-2: (11)+11+1+-2: 21 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+11+1-2: (12)+11+1+-2: 22 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+11+1-2: (18)+11+1+-2: 28 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+6+1-2: (7)+6+1+-2: 12 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d100: (25): 25 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d100: (47): 47 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d100: (74): 74 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d100: (37): 37 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+6+1: (7)+6+1: 14 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+6+1: (5)+6+1: 12 GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+6+1: (5)+6+1: 12 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "My monk with his shuriken spam is hilarious with deadly aim."
The pollen was getting even worse, and now Vaera had to jam her eyes shut to stop them from watering too much. Still, it was a big target, all she had to do was aim above the height of the others and load another series of shots with lightning speed, which land and strike with a bit more effect than last time.
<OOC> Dirk says, "Gonna go for another full attack." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Roll 1d100 for each." GAME: Dirk rolls 1d100: (94): 94 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d100: (9): 9 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d100: (74): 74 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Only one roll to attack." GAME: Dirk rolls ranged+2: (20)+10+2: 32 (THREAT) GAME: Dirk rolls ranged+2: (7)+10+2: 19 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Confirmed." GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+4+1: (11)+4+1: 16 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+4+1: (11)+4+1: 16 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+4+1: (1)+4+1: 6 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+4+1: (1)+4+1: 6
Dirk staggers back as the dragon shakes off that pollen cloud. The poor old snowbeard gets a faceful of the dust. It cakes his beard and brows, turning them golden. He doubles over, coughing and hacking uproariously between vicious sneezes. "GAH!"
He lifts his thunderbelcher, his eyes swollen shut as tears stream down his cheeks, cutting tracks in the pollen coating his leathery skin. "Gilead, guide my hand," he wheezes. He pulls back on the trigger, racking and sliding smoothly.
CHK-BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Two of the shots go wide, slamming into trees on either side of the dragon. But the third one hits it squarely, blasting a spray of soil and vegetation off its carcass. "HAH! HEADSHOhuhh... h-headshuhh... uhh... AAAA-SHOO!"
<OOC> Skielstregar says, "power attack, furious focus, all the things" GAME: Skielstregar RAGES!, gaining +2 to melee attack/damage/Will saves and 18 temporary HP GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21+2+2-2: (13)+17+2+2+-2: 32 GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21+2+2-2-3: (14)+17+2+2+-2+-3: 30 GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon21+2+2-2-3-5: (4)+17+2+2+-2+-3+-5: 15 GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage21+9: aliased to 1d10+10+9: (7)+10+9: 26 GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage21+9: aliased to 1d10+10+9: (8)+10+9: 27
Skielstregar anticipated this, a dragon laying down its breath weapon was the same exact thing he would do in a situation like this. He could feel the frost in his throat thinking about it. His weapon frosts too. He ducks down low, missing the brunt of it as he buries his head into the crook of an elbow.
He pops up. Spies Vaera. And the silverscale stops, sniffling and coughing. "It'sss not a...?" he intones, hearing Cor'lana relaying information before he grips Malefic tightly. "... you defile the sanctity of dragonkin?!"
Eyes crimson. Fangs grow. Ichor paints scales. Miasma wafts from him, mingling with the pollen filling the air. "Dragonfather! GUIDE THISSS ONE!" he bellows in a snarl before attempting to hack away at the fungal plants with fell cleaves from an equally enraged halberd. Flowers and earth are thrown asunder. A gardener would have a heart attack.
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "The dragonn says, "to the death?" and then the cavalier puffs up and says, "NO, TO THE PAEN"" <OOC> Paenitia says, "okay full attack, full attack for Ramirez." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Did your AC roll a save? For the blindness. I don't recall if we did." <OOC> Paenitia says, "doesn't my mount get my save, per the dire destrier mounted rules?" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Ah, hm. I know 'act as one' is a thing, but these are individual effects." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Eh, mount rules can be a pain in the ass." <OOC> Paenitia says, "So, -2 for sickened, +2 for flank, +2 haste, +3 for pillar cav for pae only, because it attacked others, and -3 Power Attack for Pae. GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon4-2+2+2+3-3: (4)+13+-2+2+2+3+-3: 19 GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon4-2+2+2+3-3-5: (3)+13+-2+2+2+3+-3+-5: 13 GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon4-2+2+2+3-3: (8)+13+-2+2+2+3+-3: 23 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage4+6+10: aliased to 1d6+2+6+10: (5)+2+6+10: 23 <OOC> Paenitia says, "Ramirez will not power attack. pae gets 3, two at regular, one at -5, ramirez gets 2 beaks, 2 claws" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Did you give your mount a haste attack?" <OOC> Paenitia says, "I yes, the 2nd beak is his haste attack,t hey're all +9 base. so" GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9-2+2+2: (15)+9+-2+2+2: 26 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9-2+2+2: (1)+9+-2+2+2: 12 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9-2+2+2: (14)+9+-2+2+2: 25 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9-2+2+2: (19)+9+-2+2+2: 30 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d6+4: (2)+4+1: 7 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d6+4: (3)+4+1: 8 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d6+4: (5)+4+1: 10 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "It's DR is like 'dohohoh I am made of sturdy stuff'." <OOC> Paenitia says, "he has Eldrich Claws feat, counts as magic silver, and a +1 amulet of mighty fists" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Yeah, not gonna cut it on this thing."
Once in place at the the faux dragon's haunch, the Red Knight laughs and stab, stab, stabs. She succeeds in striking only one, her hasty attacks flailing and incompetent. The one stab from her lance cuts deep.
Ramirez caws loudly, snaps with his beak, rears up and flails with his talons, finally snapping again. This time he hits the scales, to little effect.
"Ole! They will finish it, until then we keep stick it in the butt!" She got gud long ago, learning that special technique.
"...Cor'lana, get your spell under control," yells Farland, "I can feel a ..." ACHOO!
"Oh, that's what that was." He's utterly blind, and a blind wizard is not hugely useful. H4e's trying.
GAME: It is now Mossy Dragon's turn! Ravenstongue is next! GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+18: (16)+18: 34 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+18: (8)+18: 26 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+18: (15)+18: 33 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+13: (5)+13: 18 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+13: (18)+13: 31 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+13: (9)+13: 22 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d8+10: (5)+10: 15 GAME: Whirlpool damaged you for 15 points. 82 HP remaining. GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+7: (4)+7: 11 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+7: (10)+7: 17 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d8+3: (5)+3: 8 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d6+10: (9)+10: 19 <OOC> Skielstregar says, "my THP is acting really weird" <OOC> Paenitia says, "I've got DR3/- from adamantine plate, and the next 3 HP after that are Non-Lethal from Pillar Cavalier ability." <OOC> Skielstregar says, "should be at 96 hp after dr 1/- and THP" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | Name | CHP (T) | HP | ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | Dirk..........| 65 | 65 | | (C) Lulu......| 39 | 39 | | Lyme..........| 48 | 67 | | Paenitia......| 85 | 97 | | (C) Ramirez...| 67 | 67 | | Ravenstongue..| 63 | 63 | | Skielstregar..| 95 | 111 | | Vaera.........| 69 | 69 | | (C) Wyrmere...| 52 | 52 | ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sliced, stabbed, bitten, clawed, and shot, shot, then shot some more, the dragon roars. Even its heritage has been called into question. It ROARS! It rears, flexing along its length. A huge cloud of yellow dust bursts around it, and a concentrated stream blasts from its open maw.
Everyone is coated in a thick layer of yellow dust. Itchy, stinging, stickly-sweet, it clogs pores and nostriles, burns eyes and chokes. The ground, the leaves on surrounding bushes and trees are coated. Bees will be busy for days. The pollen slowly settles.
The dragon readies another attack.
OOC
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
18 Ravenstongue 1
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>> 15 Lyme 1 <<
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15 Vaera 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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13 Dirk 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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13 Skielstregar 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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9 Paenitia 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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7 Farland
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0 Mossy Dragon
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Lyme's attack
<OOC> Lyme hms
<OOC> Lyme says, "Luckily, Lyme's got a broken fight-or-flight reflex"
<OOC> Lyme says, "Is he in fill attack range, after a 5' step? :D"
<OOC> Lyme says, "Because a hasted full attack seems like an appropriate panic response :)"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "You can rush in and get a single attack."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "No full."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "I did not figure you'd be standing right on top of it after all."
<OOC> Lyme says, "He's super speedy, so let's do it."
<OOC> Lyme says, "PA/FF because it makes sense."